Day Two Hundred and Five
by someone.else.before
Summary: In which Mike has a birthday, El has a daydream, and Hopper says, "Soon." Set in July of 1984, between seasons 1 and 2. Inspired by El's fight with Hopper over breakfast in "The Pollywog."


Mike sat down in his basement fort, flicking on his walkie-talkie and tuning it to a new channel.

"El, are you there? El, it's me."

He waited, his heart beat jagged with hope for a minute and a half. Then he sighed. Nothing, just like always. But he couldn't give up. He kept talking, just in case she could hear. It made him feel a little better - believing she was listening. Or at least, pretending to believe.

"Hey El… it's day 233. It's uh… well… today is my birthday. You know about birthdays, right? My mom made me a cake and all my friends came over. Lucas got me a new comic book and Dustin got me a sweatshirt with a dinosaur that he bought on a trip with his mom. And Will gave me some of his drawings. They're really cool. He even did a drawing of you - not that he knows what you look like, not really, but we told him about you so he based it off of that. He thought it would make me feel better, I guess, but it doesn't really. Because, it doesn't actually look like you that much, but also, I start to think - I don't know. I don't even have a picture of you, you know? I'm worried… I'm worried I'm going to forget what you look like."

Mike took a deep breath.

"That's crazy, right? I mean, I think about you all the time, but I start to worry that I'm going to get confused. My dad says he can't remember much of anything about being fourteen. You know…"

His eyes were watering and he didn't care.

"You know, even if you never - if you never come back - I - I" his voice was broken. "I don't want to forget about you. Ever." He pressed the receiver, listening to the static while he tried to compose himself.

"But that doesn't matter, because you're going to come back. I know you will," he said, determined, his hands shaking. "I made a wish when I blew out the candles on the cake, and I didn't tell anyone, and I won't tell you, because they say if you tell people your wish then it won't come true. But… I know I'm going to see you again. I just know." He laughed bitterly. "Lucas would call me an idiot for thinking that wishes make a difference, but seriously, you have psychic powers so that means I get to believe in magic, okay?"

Nothing but silence and static answered him. But there was this feeling - this warm feeling, there in the fort with him. A physical presence, making him breathe easier, making the pressure in his chest unwind, even just for a second.

"El?"

It didn't matter that she didn't answer him. In that moment, he knew she was there, listening, watching. He'd doubt himself, later - tell himself he was just seeing what he wanted to see - but in that moment, he was sure.

* * *

El lifted off her blindfold and reached for her blanket, her body shaking. She climbed into her bed and collapsed, crushing her sheets against her body so that she had something to hold onto. It was always hard, seeing him, but today hurt so much worse than usual.

"It's not fair," she muttered into her pillowcase. Mike was so kind and good and when he smiled it was prettier than the whole entire sky. But every day, it was like he was getting smaller, colder, more broken. And she liked that he missed her, but it made her angry, too. _He should be happy - he deserves to be happy._ If only she was allowed to send him a signal so he would know that she was there, that she was waiting, too, that she was counting every day just like he was.

Maybe then he would get to have a happy birthday, at least. She did know about birthdays - she'd seen enough TV and read enough chapter books to pick up on the general concept - and it was hard not to feel guilty, seeing how sad Mike was on a day that was supposed to be so much fun.

Eleven closed her eyes and began to construct an alternate reality - a daydream where she was free, and there was no danger, and there were no bad men, and Hopper wasn't an over-protective mouth-breather keeping her locked up all the time. She would show up at Mike's house with a big gift under her arm, brightly wrapped with a bow. His face would light up like how it did that time she found him at the quarry, and he'd say her name in that soft, perfect voice that was getting lower by the day. She would smile and say "Happy Birthday" and he'd grab her hand and bring her inside to the party. There would be bright colors everywhere and a huge cake, and his friends would all be there, laughing and dancing, but then he'd pull her aside like they did on the TV shows, and everything would get quiet and he'd put his hand on her waist and look deep into her eyes and he would say… he would say…

"El, dinner's ready!"

Her eyes snapped open, huffing in frustration. "Okay, I'm coming!" Why did Hopper always interrupt her daydreams at the worst possible times?

She got up with a sigh and went into the kitchen, where the chief had already set out the dishes. He'd poured her a tall glass of milk, which made her wrinkle her nose. She knew she wouldn't be excused from dinner until she drank the whole thing.

Hopper ruffled her hair and plopped down, immediately digging into his food. It took him a little while to notice how distracted she was.

"You okay, El? You were in your room for a long time there."

She shrugged, munching determinedly on her broccoli. "Yeah."

Hopper saw the blood on her sleeve where she'd wiped her nose and sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You visited that kid again, huh?"

El rolled her eyes and Hopper wondered where she learned to do that. "His name is Mike."

"I know, I know," Hopper said. He could tell she didn't want to talk about it, but he felt a fatherly instinct to pry. "How's he doin'?"

She shrugged, frowning. "It's his birthday." Then she looked up at him, speculating. "He wants a picture of me."

Hopper raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah?" Mentally, he cringed.

 _This would all be a hell of a lot easier if that Wheeler boy stopped pining over her like a lovesick troubadour._

 _Wait, since when do I use the word troubadour?_

 _Whatever._

Hopper focused back on Eleven, who was fingering a curl in her hair. She spoke hesitantly. "Do you think you could get him one? A picture, of me?"

The chief looked down, hiding from her pleading eyes. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Not safe?" she asked, frowning.

"Not... healthy," he told her, as gently as he could. She stared at him, confused, and he changed tactics. "I don't even have any pictures of you from before. And it would be pretty suspicious if I showed up with a photo of you now, right?"

El leaned her forehead against the kitchen wall, obviously crushed. "He says… he's afraid he'll forget what I look like."

Hopper snorted into his corn. "That's not gonna happen, kid."

El looked at her guardian hopefully. "No?"

"No way. And besides, I told you. You'll see each other soon."

"Promise?"

Hopper bit down a wave of guilt. He had no idea how he was actually going to make this happen - bringing her out of hiding, finding a way to get the entire US government off her back. It could be years before those bastards gave up searching for her. But what choice did he have? It was hard enough keeping her here as it was - if he told her the whole truth, she'd run off in an instant. No teenager was that patient. "Yeah, kid. I promise."


End file.
